Remember, it was a Beautiful day
by Iwannaknow
Summary: Life can be wonderful and life can be cruel. In the end though, it always seems to work out. oneshot.


I was scribbling on a piece of paper the other day when an idea popped into my head. Now I have not and do not claim to have read every story on this site, but of the ones I have read this idea seemed pretty original. So please enjoy and please forgive me if it tends to get a little too depressing.

* * *

It truly was a beautiful day. Ron would have loved a day like this, sunny and warm. He would have enjoyed flying on his broomstick, carefree and happy. But all probability of that ever happening died with Ron. It seemed ironic that his life was snuffed out so easily by something as mundane as a car wreck, when years of dangerous adventures at Hogwarts, a war against death eaters, and facing Voldemort himself had yet to do the job. Ironic.

Harry could feel the figure beside him tremble, trying so hard to hold up her strong façade. He could scarcely imagine what Hermione was going through. Theirs had been a strong love, Harry had never known love like that, wasn't entirely sure he ever would either.

Mrs. Weasley sat on the other side of Hermione, and unlike her Molly's tears were flowing freely. The rest of the Weasley's stood behind them, each of them bearing their own grief stricken face. Harry wished Ginny would have taken his seat as she looked close to fainting, but Ginny had refused telling him Hermione needed him. Flanking either side of their sister, George and Fred looked strange wearing such morose faces. The normal twinkle of mischief their eyes held, extinguished. The three eldest men Arthur, Charlie, and Bill stood solemnly with their hands clasped behind their backs. Harry had a feeling the image of Mr. Weasley standing there like that would haunt him for a long time to come. Even Percy had pushed his pride and arrogance aside to mourn with his family.

Ron's final resting place was located in one of Britain's largest wizarding cemeteries. The fenced in area they were sitting in marked the Weasley family's burial ground. Who would have ever thought Ron would be the first to have the ground broken? There was no one leading the funeral, and no one else was present but the immediate family, except of course Harry and Hermione.

Harry's eyes were trained on his lap, refusing to look up at the grave that held his lifeless friend. That would make it real, and that he wasn't sure he could handle.

A glare caught his eye and he shifted his gaze towards Hermione's hands resting in her lap. The simple but elegant engagement ring on her finger was catching the suns brilliant rays. Before he could stop it his eyes began to cloud over, it was only with great force he kept the tears from falling. How could he be gone? If anyone was to die it was to be him. The flash of Hermione's ring again drew his eyes back to her hand. You would never imagine how such small and delicate hands could wield so much power and strength. How the same hands that helped destroy Voldemort could wipe away all your worries by simply stroking your head.

He could never forget their time searching for the horcrucxes. It was only practical that someone should be awake at all times, so they divided it into three hour shifts at night. It was with the slightest bit of guilt Harry remembered how happy he used to get when it was Ron's shift. That was when he could rest his head on Hermione's chest and drift into slumber as she ran her hands through his hair. It was the only way she could calm herself down, the only way she could fall asleep. An Ron and Harry were more than willing to be the head she caressed into dreamland.

Harry could not tell how long his thoughts had dwelled in the past, but when he finally came to clouds were blotting out the sunlight, and Hermione was the only one still there with him. A soft roll of thunder could be heard in the distance, storm coming in. he turned to look at Hermione for the first time. Her eyes were not puffed and red, nor was any of the small amount of make-up she had on smeared. Her features were not marred by pain or sorrow, only a sad sense of confusion.

Harry stood up, not bothering to stretch his tired muscles. Walking up to Ron's gravestone, Harry knelt down beside it. He opened his mouth only to have nothing come out. Sighing he stood back up and walked away.

"I'm going," he said kissing Hermione's cheek softly. "You should head on home soon yourself." Hermione didn't answer, or give any indication as to whether she even heard him or not. Harry nodded before disappearing with a pop.

Harry had been home all of five minutes when heavy drops of rain began falling in sheets.

"Bugger," he muttered to himself. His watch read 6:32, but he would have believed it if it had said midnight. He decided that by at least nine he would floo to Hermione's flat to check on her. Until then, he needed a drink.

It was exactly 9:00 pm when Harry stumbled out of the fireplace and into the living room of the flat Ron and Hermione shared, had shared. Something wasn't right, she was not there.

"Mione!" He called, just to make sure. When no one answered he pulled his cloak tighter around his neck before he whispered, "Shit." Harry didn't have many ideas as to where Hermione might be, so he hoped his first hunch would be right. As he walked through the rain, passing between headstones he breathed a ragged sigh of relief when he saw a lone figure in the distance.

He approached her from behind. She never moved her head although he knew she heard him. He walked up beside her and conjured a chair facing her directly. Her long wavy hair was plastered to her neck and back. Harry watched as the rain ran down her cheeks, to her jaw, then to her chin where it dripped off.

"I couldn't go back there," her voice startled him, pulling him out of his reverie.

"What do you mean?"

"Home. I can't go there. I can't handle walking into the bedroom and seeing one of his dirty shirts lying on the floor. Or his toothbrush next to mine in the bathroom." Her voice was even and eerily calm.

"Then you'll stay with me," he said and without giving her a chance to reply apparated them onto the couch in his living room. He owned a small house in surrey. It wasn't all that much, enough for a bachelor like him anyways. Hermione looked around slowly, then back at Harry.

"Thank you."

"Not a problem. Why don't you go change before you catch cold?" Hermione complied willingly. Harry took the time to change as well. He was resting on the couch in front of the fire wearing flannel pj bottoms and a t-shirt when Hermione returned wearing an almost identical outfit although it was a few sizes too big for her. She sat beside him on the couch staring into the fire with him.

After a few moments Harry mustered up the courage to look at her. Silent tears were trailing down her cheeks. Wordlessly Harry leaned over and laid his head on Hermione's chest, her fingers immediately finding their way into his hair.

"I already miss him so much Harry," he could hear her voice vibrating in her chest, mingling with the rhythmic thumping of her heart.

"I know," he sighed, his arms wrapped tight around her tiny waist. "I do too."

--

Over the next three weeks Hermione had become somewhat of a roommate. The morning after that first night spent on the couch Harry had told Hermione she was welcome for as long as she like. He had even gone so far as to confide to her that her presence was quite comforting.

It was precisely four weeks after that first night the vomiting started. While it _was_ roughly a week and half before Harry got Hermione on a proper eating schedule, she had never once been ill. As it were, it was an alarming shock for Harry when he woke up on the morning of that fourth week to the sounds of Hermione retching in the bathroom down the hall.

Normally Harry would have never woke before nine on a Saturday, and had Hermione been able to manage to shut the door in her haste to the toilet he imagined he would have slept till much later. Rationally realizing that Hermione might not want him to just waltz on in considering she was in such an unflattering position, Harry paused at the door.

"Hermione," he called getting her attention, "is there anything at all I can do to help?"

"Water," was her only weak reply. Quickly shuffling down to the kitchen, Harry was back to the bathroom in moments, glass of water in hand. Hermione was already rinsing her mouth out, splashing some water on her face as well. She took the glass from Harry gratefully.

"Are you alright Mione? You haven't caught a bug have you?" He watched Hermione sip the water carefully, testing it to make sure it wouldn't set her off again. Finally she looked up at Harry.

"No, I don't think it's anything like that. I mean, it was very sudden. I was breakin' an egg into the skillet an it hit me. I feel perfectly fine now." Her face looked puzzled as she absently rubbed her hand over her abdomen. Harry was curious himself, but seeing as Hermione felt fine he shrugged it off as just 'one of those things'. In fact, by the time evening rolled around Harry had completely forgotten about the morning's events. That was until the next afternoon, when it happened again.

By now Harry felt he had every right to be concerned, even though Hermione kept brushing it off.

"I'm seriously alright," Hermione defended as Harry tried to talk her into a visit to Mungo's. "Besides Harry," she continued, "I really don't want to be anywhere near that place." And that was the end of that. Harry couldn't argue with her there. A painful image of Ron in a hospital bed, half his head hidden under white gauze and bandages flashed through his mind. No, he could not argue with her there.

When the random bursts of vomiting had not stopped by the third day, Harry was certain he would lose his mind. Something was clearly wrong with his remaining best friend, _something_ he could do nothing about. He had briefly thought of owling Mrs. Weasley or Ginny before deciding against it. After Ron, if either suspected something to be wrong with Hermione, well…

When Hermione entered the room Harry was staring into the fire intently, he didn't notice her until she sat beside him.

"Feeling alright?" Harry asked. Her face looked as if something was troubling her. "Hermione," he spoke again, "what's the matter? Please?" The smallest amount of fear had wormed its way into Harry's stomach, affecting him greatly.

"I'm late," she could have spoken in another language and Harry would have understood as much.

"I'm sorry, I don't, I don't understand," he whispered confused.

"I know why I've been getting sick," Hermione's words were so cryptic to Harry. He didn't want to solve any damn riddles, he wanted to know what the hell was going on. Hermione turned to him unshed tears in her eyes as she saw the confusion in Harry's.

"I'm pregnant," she said, the tears finally falling.

Pregnant. Harry's mind kept tossing the word around in his head. Hermione was watching Harry, as if waiting for him to tell her what to do. What did you tell the woman who was carrying the child of her dead fiancé?

"Are you sure?"

"Well, I don't know any spells to check, but I've never missed my monthly before, and then there's all the puking." She was doing an extremely good job keeping calm. "I think it's time to talk to Molly."

Harry smiled sadly, nodding at Hermione's comment. "Yeah, let's."

With their children living on their own an all, the burrow was empty, save Molly and Arthur. As expected Molly was quite emotional when confronted with Hermione's news. However, there was no mistaking the fact hers were tears of joy.

Harry lay in bed looking up at his ceiling, utterly exhausted. Molly had of courts quelled Hermione's fears and had insisted she stay a few days. In which time Molly would make sure she was seen by a doctor, and received a potion to diminish the morning sickness.

Harry had never felt more useless in his whole life, he hadn't even been able to think of anything to say to comfort Hermione. Empty and miserable Harry rolled over and did the only thing he felt like doing, he cried.

--

This was nerve-wracking. Harry couldn't believe there were people out there who would willingly go through this more than once. He certainly couldn't imagine wanting to go through this again. He threw an irritated glance over at Arthur, a prime example. He'd been through this hell six times already. Perhaps that's why he seemed so calm and collected, whereas Harry couldn't sit still for more than two minutes.

How quickly the past nine months had passed. In the month that followed after Hermione found out about the baby she decided it was time for her to move back out. With Harry's help of course, she began the tedious task of removing traces of Ron from her home, except for a photo depicting a bundled up Ron and Hermione snuggled close together in a horse drawn sleigh, which sat above the fireplace on the mantle.

In that same month she also returned to work. She owned and operated a quaint bookstore in Hogsmeade village. It had always been a dream of hers to run a book shop and Fred and George had granted that wish when they helped get her on her feet. Her store, 'The Book Nook' had been turning a reasonable profit ever since.

Harry glanced down at his watch. All that reminiscing and only…FIVE MINUTES had passed. He turned to Arthur only to find him in the same position he had been in earlier. His eyes then traveled over to Fred and George, the only others in the waiting room with him.

He felt a small amount of relief to see their faces didn't look quite as calm as their fathers. They were in the same boat as Harry, even though both were married neither had kids yet. Harry recalled how brightly their eyes had lit up when the rest of the Weasley family had been informed of Hermione's news. He was sure the two would be more than willing to share all their knowledge of pranks and hi-jinx with the new addition. They were currently whispering to each other. No doubt betting on whether the baby was a girl or boy.

Harry's eyes flickered over to a set of double doors. Behind those doors, in a room down the hall, Molly and Ginny were with Hermione. He envied them. This was one time Harry wouldn't be by Hermione's side to help her and it really bothered him. After Hermione had moved back to her place hardly a day went by that Harry didn't see her. He had made it a daily routine to spend his lunch break with her, and on weekends he often visited her. Of course Hermione would tell him he should go out and have fun, meet a nice girl, but he would always ignore her.

He wondered briefly how much trouble he would get into if he just stormed down the hall to Hermione's room. His musings never got too far, as Ginny emerged from behind the doors. A mix of fear and excitement was visible on her face.

"Finished already?" Arthur asked momentarily forgetting his paper.

"No, she's close though." The twins who had stood up hopefully sat back down as Ginny turned to Harry. "She's asking for you," Ginny grinned down to him. Harry's courageous thoughts from earlier vanished as he followed her. Why would Hermione be asking for him? He knew she had decided to give birth the muggle way but, Harry gulped, he knew nothing on the subject.

He remembered earlier that day when arrived at Hermione's house. She was seated on the couch reading, rubbing her free hand up and down her swollen belly. Harry was standing in the doorway watching her when she suddenly spoke up.

"The baby's very active today. Are you sure you don't want to feel, just once?" Harry hesitated. He had yet to feel the baby's movements, although he was not sure why he always declined. He was about to refuse once again when Ron popped into his head. How happy Ron would be, how much he would want to share his joy with everyone.

Harry crossed the room to the couch, Hermione giving him a smile he was sure only pregnant women could give. He sat next to her feeling more nervous than he could ever remember being. He held his hand up, unsure what to do until Hermione wrapped both of her hands around it. She gently brought them down to rest on her protruding middle. For a few seconds Harry felt nothing, then it happened. He pulled his hand back as if burned, looking up at Hermione.

"You just felt a kick Harry," she smiled. Harry gave a breathless laugh as he put both his hands on her abdomen. Again and again he could feel the little baby inside of her move.

"Hermione," he whispered after a while, his head resting on her belly.

"Yes," she said her fingers combing his hair.

"I would do anything for you and this baby, you know that don't you?" he lifted his head up to gaze at her.

"I know," she smiled pulling him over to kiss his forehead. "And now I think we should floo to Mungo's." Harry stared at her bewildered. "My water just broke."

"Ok Harry," Ginny broke in, "put this gown over your clothes." He did as he was told and followed her into the room. Molly was by Hermione's side wiping her face with a damp cloth, both women looked over as Harry entered. A painful smile graced Hermione's lips replaced seconds later by a grimace as her eyes shut and her body tensed up. Harry ran to her side not understanding what was going on, why weren't Ginny and Molly panicking? It was a few moments before Hermione relaxed her muscles and opened her eyes. Molly continued with the cloth turning to Ginny.

"Her contractions are right on top of each other. Go fetch the healer dear." Harry's anxiety subsided somewhat while his chest swelled with gratefulness to Molly who seemed to know what was happening.

Harry's hand found Hermione's and he squeezed it comfortingly whispering to her, "I'm here, I'm right here." She gripped his hand tighter.

"Stay with me, please." She begged, Harry pulled her hand to his lips, then leaned forward to kiss her forehead.

"Of course, anything for you." Hermione closed her eyes again.

"I with Ron were here." Harry and molly looked at each other unsure of how to respond to something like that. They were saved however by the healer entering the room. He examined Hermione then called for a second healer to enter.

Glancing up at Hermione he smiled, "It's time."

--

Harry's eyes were tired and itchy behind his glasses. A glance and the clock told him it was close to midnight. Pulling his glasses off he leaned back in his seat massaging his weary eyes. A soft laugh from the doorway brought his attention to the witch currently standing there.

"What are you still doing up?" she asked softly. She was wearing her normal bedtime apparel, a worn shirt and pair of flannel bottoms. Even so, it was hard to deny the woman was a true beauty.

"I'm just putting the last touches on this report. I'm finished now." he added the last part as he got up and made his way to the door.

"Ron was a holy terror to get to sleep." Harry chuckled at her statement. "I can't believe he'll be going to Hogwarts tomorrow, seems just yesterday he was a little baby rolling around on the floor." Harry put a comforting arm around her waist, walking with her down the hall.

They passed several pictures, all containing the image of the same little boy. He had fiery red hair, a fair amount of freckles, and brilliant blue eyes that brought tears to his grandma Weasley's own eyes when she thought no one was watching.

"He'd be having a fit right now if he heard you talking like that, he hates it when you baby him." Harry smirked, thinking about just how much Ron was like his father. Harry knew wherever his best friend was right now he would be proud. Harry followed his wife into their bedroom. She planted a chaste kiss to his lips as she walked over to her side of the bed.

They had been together nine years and still even the smallest of her kisses set the butterflies in his stomach in an uproar. He set his glasses on the bedside table as he got into the bed, moving himself to lay behind her.

Harry still missed Ron terribly, some days more so than others. It was hard, spending so much time with his son knowing he never could, but as guilty as he would sometimes feel Harry was happy that there was at least a small part of Ron still here. So in a way, he would never truly be gone, seemed like Sirius had been right. The ones we love never truly leave us.

He put an arm around the woman in front of him. Harry knew that her son would always be a reminder of what she had lost, but he also knew she loved him more than life itself. Just as Harry loved her. It had taken years to convince himself he was not betraying his best friend by loving her, but somewhere deep inside he knew Ron would be able to be at peace knowing Harry was watching over the people he cared for most.

His wife shifted next to him mumbling a goodnight before sleep overtook her. He smiled to himself, thinking life had a funny way of working things out, as he kissed her neck mumbling, "Night 'Mione. I love you."

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Love it? Hate it? Tell me whatcha think please. As always, thanks for reading. 


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